When Gina “G” Rebacus left the Philippines to pursue her dreams in Australia, she carried with her the hopes of many immigrant families who saw in her a story of resilience, sacrifice, and determination. A registered nurse by training, she had worked tirelessly in both public and private hospitals back home before an opportunity to move abroad presented itself. Like many Filipinos, she imagined a brighter future in a foreign land, where hard work could carve out success.

In Australia, she soon realized that her passion no longer lay in nursing. Instead, she felt an irresistible pull toward the culinary world. Her dream was to serve people not in hospital wards but in kitchens, with food as her expression of care. It was a bold and risky decision—studying again, juggling expenses, and working tirelessly to fund her tuition. But with sheer determination, she enrolled at Le Cordon Bleu, one of the most prestigious culinary schools in the world.

Her efforts paid off. In November 2013, Gina graduated with honors, one of only three students recognized with the highest award. Her family beamed with pride. Friends saw her as the embodiment of a strong, independent woman making it big overseas. Even more, her personal life seemed charmed—by her side was Amin, a 30-year-old chef from Nepal, who, like her, had carved a future out of grit and perseverance.

But the picture of happiness was deceptive.

Unknown to many, Gina had long been in a relationship with Roy Abalanes, a fellow Filipino she had dated back home. They had migrated together to Australia, sharing the struggles of adjusting to a new life, scraping through bills, and building dreams brick by brick. Roy worked to support their household while Gina pursued her studies. For years, their bond appeared unshakable. To their families, marriage seemed inevitable.

Then came November 11, 2013.

The day began like any other. By mid-morning, however, neighbors reported hearing desperate screams, followed by chaos erupting from Gina’s apartment in Sydney’s Darling Point. When paramedics arrived, the scene was grim: Amin lay critically injured, drenched in blood, his life slipping away. Despite frantic attempts to resuscitate him, he died inside the apartment. Gina herself was hysterical, her body marked with cuts, her voice hoarse from screaming for help.

Within hours, police had their suspect. To everyone’s shock, it wasn’t a stranger—it was Roy.

Court records later revealed the chilling sequence of events. Consumed by jealousy and suspicion, Roy had allegedly installed surveillance apps on Gina’s phone, tracking her messages and movements. When he rushed home unexpectedly that fateful morning, he claimed to have found Gina and Amin in a compromising situation. Overcome with rage, he grabbed a kitchen knife—the same type Amin had once gifted Gina—and launched a fatal attack.

The brutality stunned investigators. Medical examiners counted multiple stab wounds, a clear indication of uncontrolled fury. Yet, amid the horror, Roy insisted he had not planned the killing. In his testimony, he broke down, declaring that in those moments, “it was as if a demon took control” and that he regretted everything the second it was over.

The trial that followed split public opinion. Prosecutors painted Roy as a controlling man who stalked his partner, planned his revenge, and executed it with cold precision. The defense argued he was a heartbroken lover pushed to the edge by betrayal, a man acting in a moment of uncontrollable emotion.

Initially, Roy was convicted of murder and sentenced to 17 years in prison. But the case did not end there.

An appeal revealed a serious flaw in the first trial: one juror, a Buddhist who barely understood English, admitted struggling to reach a verdict. This technicality overturned the conviction, granting Roy a retrial. The second time, the jury downgraded the charge to manslaughter, concluding he had acted in the heat of passion rather than with premeditation. His sentence was reduced to just four and a half years.

By the mid-2010s, Roy walked free. Today, reports suggest he has remarried a Filipina woman and started a family. Meanwhile, Gina’s story faded from headlines, her whereabouts unknown. For Amin’s loved ones, the tragedy left scars that time could never heal. He had been engaged to his childhood sweetheart, preparing for a wedding just weeks away when his life was cut short.

This case remains one of Australia’s most shocking immigrant tragedies—a tale of love, betrayal, obsession, and the devastating consequences of uncontrolled rage. It is also a stark reminder of how fragile dreams can be, and how quickly they can unravel when jealousy turns deadly.

For Gina, Roy, and Amin, what began as stories of hope and ambition ended in heartbreak, prison walls, and a grave far too early. And for the community, it left a haunting question still echoing years later: Was justice truly served?